


the fire's found a home in me

by KelseyO



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, commander princess, post 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Clarke does after her mom walks away is double over and vomit onto the forest floor in front of her.</p><p>(Takes place immediately after 2x12. Title from "Yellow Flicker Beat" by Lorde.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fire's found a home in me

**Author's Note:**

> Abby was a brutal motherfucker at the end of this week's episode and I'd like Lexa to kiss it and make it better, but since that's probably a bit much for canon at this moment, here's what I could see happening between their conversation and Clarke's line about the Mountain Men from the promo.

The first thing Clarke does after her mom walks away is double over and vomit onto the forest floor in front of her.

Her stomach is mostly empty since she’s been too nervous to eat much today and the dry-heaving sucks all the oxygen out of her lungs, and as she tries to suck in deep breaths of air she smells the fire, smells the obliterated earth and wood and flesh, and now there’s even more bile rising from her throat.

“Are you hurt?”

She flinches at the sound of Lexa’s voice behind her and wipes her mouth with the back of her palm. “No,” she croaks, straightening up again and hiding her trembling hands under her arms.

“Good,” Lexa replies simply.

Clarke doesn’t look at her. “Are you?”

“No.” The syllable is almost completely devoid of emotion and it sort of makes Clarke want to hurl again.

Her mom’s voice is still in her head, harsh echoes of _“You crossed the line”_ and “ _Their blood is on your hands”_ slipping between the shouts and screams she can hear up ahead, and she doesn’t realize her eyes are filled with tears until a blurry Lexa steps in front of her. She blinks them away but more follow, and she lets out a quiet sob when a particularly loud cry of agony hits her ears.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, and the sudden softness of her voice is a stark contrast to what she heard a second ago. “We did what we had to do. We did what was best for the most people.”

She nods and stares at a point to the right of Lexa’s head. “We had to protect Bellamy,” Clarke manages through the lump in her throat.

Lexa nods once, slowly. “Yes.”

“They couldn’t know that we knew about the missile.”

 “Yes.”

Clarke nods some more then vomits again, turning away so Lexa might not see her heaving, and tries to pull herself together. “Still think I’m showing true strength?” she breathes once her stomach settles.

“Yes,” Lexa says a third time, still sounding just as confident. “Grief is an unavoidable part of loss, Clarke. It will subside.”

Clarke locks eyes with her, then glances behind Lexa to the raging flames beyond the trees.

“As will the guilt.”

“Tell me we did the right thing, Lexa,” she whispers after a beat. “Please tell me we did the right thing.”

Lexa steps closer to her until they’re barely a few inches apart. “Clarke of the Sky People,” she says, each word sincere and precise, “you would not have done it if it were wrong.”

Her bottom lip wobbles for a moment and she clears her throat. “My mother doesn’t agree.”

“Your mother is naïve,” Lexa replies without missing a beat. “She may have been an adequate leader in the Sky, but down here, the rules are different. Down here, she does not understand."

Clarke clenches her jaw. “We should go,” she mutters, “I need to help with the wounded.” She moves to step past Lexa but then there’s a hand gripping her wrist and she stops in her tracks.

“You are not their enemy, Clarke.” Lexa’s eyes are boring into hers. “The Mountain Men are their enemy; _our_ enemy.”

Clarke’s pulse is racing beneath Lexa’s fingertips as she thinks about Bellamy and Jasper and the rest of the forty-eight, about the excruciating whine of drill against bone, and about the radio voice that took so much pleasure in launching a missile at one of the only places on the Ground where she feels safe.

Now she stares hard at the fire and the rubble until her eyes start to burn, and only then does she turn to face Lexa again. “I want the Mountain Men dead,” she says finally, and she’s not sure she’s ever spoken with this much venom. “ _All_ of them.”

Lexa nods once. “After you, Clarke of the Sky People.”

She begins to loosen her grip but Clarke lifts her arm a fraction and catches Lexa’s hand in her own, then takes a deep breath. “No,” she says firmly, “Together.” Clarke waits for Lexa to pull away or glare daggers at her, but instead Lexa gives her palm the lightest squeeze.

(Their hands stay joined until they reach the flames.)

**Author's Note:**

> PS. I made a Clarke/Lexa mix last week that continues to be super relevant so here's the link if you want to listen: http://8tracks.com/goneawayawhile/hope-is-our-four-letter-word


End file.
